


drowning

by tsaritsas



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Bickering, Confessions, F/M, There's no plot, at first, basically??, idk man, ish, oh but they are on his flying ship, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsaritsas/pseuds/tsaritsas
Summary: Nikolai takes Zoya out on a midnight journey on a flying ship that he had rebuilt.
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov & Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	drowning

“Get up.”

Zoya turned onto her side in her sleep, wondering what the hell anyone could want at this hour of the night other than to sleep. She needed a better lock on her chamber doors.

“Zoya,” the voice said again, shaking her shoulder, “get up.” 

She turned to lay on her back, eyes widening suddenly to see the face of her king above her. “Your highness,” she responded, “and I mean this,” she pulled covers up and over shoulders, once again turning onto her side. “Fuck off.” 

She could see him smirking at her out of the corner of her eyes. “Now that’s not a way to speak to royalty, is it, my general?”

“It is when the royalty randomly comes into your room at random hours of the night.” 

She saw him smirk out of the corner of her eye. “C’mon tsaritsa, I have something planned. I didn’t come in here for nothing.”

“Fine,” she complained, “go outside and wait. I have to get my kefta.” She gestured toward the door with her hand. “Leave.”

He smiled at her one last time before disappearing out the doorway. “As you wish.”

–––––

She emerged from her room ten minutes later, clad in her blue silk  _ kefta _ and a pair of old sandals. Nikolai smiled at her again, a sincere one this time, hazel eyes glinting with mischief that, despite her best judgment, made her want to follow him to whatever mysterious place he wanted to take her. Her heart beat fast in her chest. What did he want with her? “Nikolai–”

But he had already grabbed her hand and was running down the stairs with her trailing behind him. She ran to keep up so she didn’t fall as he ran through the corridors, towards the back entrance. What the hell? She tried to wriggle her hand away, though the effort proved futile. “Where,” she stressed, “are you taking me?”

“Be patient, tsaritsa. It’s worth it.”

“In the dead of night,” she complained, “while it’s cold?” She paused to take a breath, as they were still running. “What could possibly be worth it right now?”

Suddenly they burst through the back doors of the palace, Zoya feeling the sudden chill of wind through her kefta. Saints, she should have remembered it was going to be cold. Especially since the back of the palace was home to a lake. 

A lake that now had a ship in the middle of it. 

Zoya’s eyes widened as she turned her head to look at Nikolai, who had a grin spread across his face as he looked toward his ship. It was almost a replica of the Volkvolny, she realized, though the sails were brighter white and the paint was less worn. There was a glint in his eyes when he smiled, she realized, that wasn’t there most of the time when they were in council meetings or when he gave speeches. He, for once it seemed, was truly happy. Not just faking it for the crowd or the Triumvirate. He proved quite a vision that night; hazel eyes bright and warm, charming smile that stopped her heart, blond waves glowing gold under the starlight. Despite the protests in her head, Zoya drank in the sight of him now. When was the next time life would be like this?

His gaze moved the ship back to her. He took her hand again, starting toward the docks and taking her with him. She raised an eyebrow at him as they ran toward the Volkvolny, only causing him to smile wider. She rolled her eyes in response, because now was not the time he was going to win her over. Not now, not ever. 

They finally stopped at the edge of the docks, the ship looming in front of them with a ramp lowered on the dock. Because they were going on the ship. In the dead of night. He was taking her. On a  _ flying ship _ . In the middle of the night with no one else around. Saints, what was he planning? 

“You ready, tsaritsa?”

She met his gaze again, hazel eyes glittering as he almost seemed to challenge her to leave. Which, frankly, was the best idea. But he would never let her live it down if she didn’t go. And he didn’t need any more ego than he already had. 

“Whenever you are,” she retorted, ripping her hand from his hand, “and don’t call me that.” A small wave of longing hit her unwelcome, as she craved the touch of his skin as soon as it was gone. 

He began to strut up the ramp to the ship. “What,” he questioned her, “ _ tsaritsa _ ? I think it suits you, personally.” 

She followed him, disdain for him and his goddamn charm filling her thoughts as she made her way onto the ship. “But I am not your queen.” She crossed her arms. 

Nikolai turned around to face her, stepping closer to her until he was at arm’s length. The glint of mischief came back into his eyes as he licked his lips quickly.  _ Saints, not now. _ “But you could be.”

She looked away, focusing her gaze towards the palace in the distance. “This better not be what you brought me here to discuss.” 

“No, actually,” he said, meeting her eyes, “I brought you here because you’re my friend. And I like you.” He paused. “And when something good happens, I usually like to share it with the people I like. In this case,” he took her hand, his voice growing softer, lower, “I wanted to share it with you.”

_ Oh, _ she thought,  _ okay _ . He was holding her hand again.  _ Okay.  _

No. Not now. She pulled her hand out of his grip after what she couldn’t tell was seconds or eternity. The only thing she could tell was that when he had taken her hand, they were on the water. When she had taken it away, she felt a rush of wind. 

Because they were no longer on the ground. 

Zoya felt a chill run down her spine as she saw the palace far below her. Heights didn’t scare her necessarily, but that didn’t mean she liked them either. She took another quick glance at Nikolai, who was still smiling stupidly at her expression of displeasing, which made her want to smack him. Or kiss him. Or both. Either way, she was glad it was dark so that he couldn’t see the blood rushing to her cheeks. 

She stared off the side of the ship, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm. “How did you get it to fly?” She asked. “I thought you would need squallers for that.”

“It’s an enchantment, actually.”

“But we don’t have those.”

“Well,” he said, “if you’re a king then you can.”

“That’s not an explanation.”

“Well, I’ve got nothing else.” 

Zoya stood up from leaning against the railing, turning around to look at the centre of the ship and noticing a table with some sort of box on it. She wandered over to it, as she had never seen anything like it before. It was a simple box of polished dark wood, with a place on top for what looked like a disc, and a sort of brass horn coming out of the side. 

“That’s a record player,” Nikolai explained from behind her, “for music.” He smiled again, and she felt her heart melt a bit inside her chest. He took a cover from beside the box, pulling out of it a black disc, and placing it onto the record player. He lifted the needle, placed it in one of the grooves on the disc. He pressed play. 

“Dance with me, my general?” he asked, offering her a hand, and against her logic, she took it. Abruptly, he pulled her closer, an arm wrapping around her waist. They moved slowly, as Zoya realized quickly she did not know very well how to dance, so he guided her through the steps. The song was a slow one, though she was too focused on Nikolai in front of her, his hand on her back, to pay attention to much else about it. She caught the beginning of it about five minutes into their dance:

_ I know you belong _

_ to somebody new _

_ but tonight you belong to me _

She met his hazel eyes, starting to forget everything else around them except Nikolai, the feeling of his arms around her, the smooth curve of his lips, the sharp line of his jaw. Which was probably why she didn’t notice that she had wrapped her arms around his shoulders. That he had pulled her closer so that their faces were barely two inches apart. She could hardly feel her heart doing flips behind her ribcage as she gazed into his eyes, the gold in the centre of his eyes almost entirely replaced by the black of his pupils.

Which was why she did not object when his soft lips came over hers, and she welcomed him. Welcomed the electrifying feeling in her veins that came with his touch as his hands tangled into her hair, as he pulled her closer and closer so that there was no space left anywhere between them. 

What was she doing? Why did he have to be the one to make her feel this way?

She broke it off suddenly, though she was still in his arms. She could feel her lips swollen from his mouth on hers, the taste of him still there. “What are we doing?” She stepped back. “Why now? What took you so long if you  _ clearly _ knew?” 

He gave her a sad smile, coming closer again, and she let him even though she knew better. “Because you were right,” he mused, wrapping an arm around her waist, “it wouldn’t be considered acceptable. A king and his general.” Zoya could feel the walls around her crumbling once more as he placed a kiss on her jaw. “But,” he leaned closer, “everything you do and say mesmerises me,” he placed a hand on her cheek, “and I couldn’t wait any longer to let you know that,” he smiled again before kissing her, slower and deeper than before. It was over now, she knew as she wrapped her arms around his neck, losing control to this feeling she couldn’t quite place. She stumbled backwards as he moved closer, and she felt her back hit something, though she couldn’t care less what it was as Nikolai’s hand cushioned her at her waist. She brought her legs up around him as whatever was behind her held her up and he trailed kisses down her neck and to her collarbone and she threaded her fingers through his hair. She could no longer think straight, and he couldn’t either. It was wrong, she knew, but the exact reasons failed to come to mind when his touch seemed to cause her to burn up. 

His lips caught on hers again, and that was the end of any denial she had left of what he was to her. 

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea what this is. i just kind of wanted to put off studying for my bio quiz. so sorry it sucks. it's really a low for me too. i will be providing free eye bleach for those who need it


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